


Moonstruck

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kissing, Making Out, Not a Moonstruck AU, Step-siblings, idk what this is but I had fun writing it, with very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Long ago, the Free Folk would say it was a prime time to steal a wife. Even today, there are those who say it effects lovers and would-be lovers queerly, brings primal instincts and hidden desires to the surface.Jon would say it was all bullshit, just bullshit and strong ale.But he’s got Sansa pressed up against the wall in this alley after they’d been grinding to the beat of the drums inside the dingy night club they’d stumbled into an hour ago after all their friends had abandoned them.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 47
Kudos: 157





	Moonstruck

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little ditty and, despite the title, it's NOT a Moonstruck AU. But a Moonstruck AU for Jonsa would be interesting, no?

Hardhome and nothing much to do. The sky is cloudy so their little team of astronomers had gone to the bar closest to the motel to drink away their disappointment. No comets to view. The aurora wavers wanly, its colors muted, mocking them over the show they’re missing.

In town though, the local residents are living it up. The Moonmaid Festival is upon them, the longest night of the year. Bonfires, drinking, music and a parade. They don’t care about the cloudy night. The world is alive. Samwell says to make the most of it and their little party agrees.

This year is special or was supposed to be, astronomically speaking. The Red Wanderer, also known as The Thief, was going to be visible in the Moonmaid…if not for the fucking clouds.

Long ago, the Free Folk would say it was a prime time to steal a wife. Even today, there are those who say it effects lovers and would-be lovers queerly, brings primal instincts and hidden desires to the surface.

Jon would say it was all bullshit, just bullshit and strong ale.

But he’s got Sansa pressed up against the wall in this alley after they’d been grinding to the beat of the drums inside the dingy night club they’d stumbled into an hour ago after all their friends had abandoned them.

He knows he should let her go, should back away, but it’s cold out here and their bodies are hot, keeping the chill of the weather and reality at bay.

“Nobody knows us here,” she breathes against his cheek, a hot huff of air flavored with grenadine.

She’d taste like vodka if he kissed her. He must be crazy. He can’t kiss her.

She seems to read his thoughts. “They don’t know us here. We can…we can act…anyway you want.”

“But I’m your…” They aren’t just colleagues from the astronomy department. They’re…

“You’re not my brother. You’re my _step_ -brother.”

“And your cousin.”

“So? You’re not my brother. You’ve never looked at me like your sister.”

It’s true. He can’t meet her eyes because she knows it’s true. From the moment he’d laid eyes on her the first time, he’d been fascinated, found her alluring in a manner that was anything but brotherly.

Ned and Ashara’s son. Divorced when Jon was three. Jon and Sansa weren’t even raised together, not until he was seventeen and his mother died, forcing him to go live with his father and his family.

Brandon and Catelyn’s daughter. Brandon had died when Sansa was four. His father had comforted his brother’s widow and married her two years later.

Bran and Rickon had come along after that. They’re Jon’s siblings same as their Sansa’s but Sansa is…something else.

Their blended family can be a little messy to explain to say the least.

_And you want to make it messier?_

“Don’t you want to kiss me, Jon?” He licks his lips, hesitates before answering. “You do. You want to,” she murmurs, letting her fingers dance their way up his thigh. She grazes his crotch, gives a squeeze, and he stiffens, trying to suppress his tortured groan.

“I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to.” She leans into him, nipping at his ear. “You _want_ to.”

Gods be good, he does. He wants to kiss her. 

No one knows them here. A kiss. Nothing at all. Just a kiss. It’d probably be weird and the spell would be broken, the damned Moonmaid and her Wanderer just a myth. They’d share an awkward laugh and go back to their separate hotel rooms, blaming the alcohol and trying to forget it.

(He already knows he won’t forget it no matter how bloody awkward it is.)

“Please, Jon…”

It’s a needy whine. The tether of restraint grows weak, from dental floss to a spider’s web maybe. Why not give her what she wants? What _he_ wants?

“I can feel my pulse throbbing between my legs. That’s how bad I wan-”

He cuts her off, growling as his lip curls up before he covers her mouth with his, swallowing her gasp with smug pride as she arches into him, loops her arms around his neck.

Every denial, all those dirty, dirty thoughts, all those shameful nights under Ned and Catelyn’s roof fantasizing about the girl in the next room are poured into this kiss.

All his love and affection, all his hopes and dreams and wishes are, too.

She matches his intensity. Did she have those dirty thoughts, too? Does she feel anything close for him to what he feels for her?

Now isn’t the time to ask.

She’s blossoming under him, her mouth parting, letting him in. If she’s the spark, he’s the kerosene. It’s going to engulf them both tonight and then what will tomorrow bring?

His usual reserve, that barrier he’s always erected between him and every other woman he’s known is eviscerated because this is Sansa and none of them were ever her.

He changes the angle of the kiss, takes it deeper, slanting his mouth over hers, scrapes his teeth over her bottom lip, reveling in that hitch in her breath and the way she’s desperately trying to mount his thigh out here. He lets her. Grasps her ass in those skinny jeans and encourages her with a few mumbled words between kisses.

She’s wild, like nothing he’d ever expect from her. Her skin is flushed, on fire. He sucks on her throat, her collarbone where her jacket falls open. He’s marking her. Tomorrow, that’ll still be here. A reminder that this night was real.

She grinds down on his thigh as he cups a breast, teasing her nipple through her blouse, pushing the cup down. Can he get away with suckling a nipple out here? Will anyone see them? Will anyone here care tonight with the way this crowd is getting carried away, drunk on hard ale and northern lights?

“Yes…” she moans, reaching up long enough to unbutton the top two buttons of that blouse, all he needs. She can read his fucking mind tonight.

One lick, then one more, her fingers thread through his hair with one hand as the other clutches at his wrist. She drags it down her body, lower, lower, lower. One button and a zipper.

“I’m fucked,” he mutters before slipping his hand into her jeans and down her panties.

“You will be,” she promises just before her thighs clench together mercilessly around his hand and her eyes roll back.


End file.
